


Cake

by ScarredMoon



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Cake, Death, Fluff, M/M, Well not much cake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 23:52:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8643073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarredMoon/pseuds/ScarredMoon
Summary: Oswald decides to make a cake with Ed.





	

Isabella was _gone_ and nothing could stop The Penguin from taking what was rightfully his – _Ed_. Oswald began to tip tap away at the table with his hands before an idea sparked within his sinful mind. _A cake! Of course_. Ed would never turn down the opportunity to watch the master of baking work his magic in the kitchen.  
The tired, exhausted Mayor of Gotham got to his feet, grabbing his cane for support, and headed to Eds room. With his usual manner of walking, steps and then a little hobble slid, Oswald had just got outside Eds office. “Ed!” He cried out. He stepped into the very.. personalised office. Oswald smiled brightly and stood straight up – even if it pained him.

“We are going to bake a cake together!” He demanded, cheeks a gentle red. Ed was puzzled and watched the smaller man for a few moments before forming his own smile. “Sure.” He said more bluntly than normal.

“ _Sure_? That’s _it_? No riddles, questions, or inquiries?” He asked. Worry panged at his heart. He’d noticed how… sadder Ed had been since Gabe, his new right hand man, had taken care of the issue known as ‘Isabella’. Or Bitch, as Oswald enjoyed to call her. “No. Something like this might take my mind off of her, actually.” Oswald noticed his smile looked more forced than his normal toothy grin. Oswald nodded, asking no more questions.

And so, the two made their way down the hall and into the rather large kitchen. The manors cookery was larger than the more regular households kitchen; however it was made for the design purpose of having more than two simple people baking within it. It was made for at least a staff of 30 cooks, busboys and other rankings. Oswald’s mind began to trail back to what his father had said about how he met his mother working here.. Ed didn’t know that. And he’d rather keep it that way.

His long, bony fingers trail along the surface of the open spaces to use for their cooking. His mind wondered, begin to picture his younger mother working here. A smile on her lips and her long messy hair up within a bun. Even begin to see a young version of Elijah, his father, peering around the kitchens door and watching Gertrud with a cheeky little grin.

_She stood here. Her hands touched this.._  
_Probably._

A chuckle escaped his lips before he turned back to Ed who was still looking glum but a tad more happy than his usual self. _I_ will make you happy again, Ed. Even if it kills me.. His heart pained even more, aching over and over with each sad movement Ed made. His eyes blinked and kept away one or two tears who’d threaten to emerged.

They gathered everything needed; Flower, sugar, eggs, bowls, utensils and baking powder. This had taken Eds mind off of the issue at hand but not bought his happiness up. He was empty, at least. No happiness yet no sadness either.  But hopefully this would soon change.

Ed reached for the spoon and then so did Oswald. They both touched hands. Only for a brief moment but not only did their hands touch but so did their hearts. Oswald couldn’t help but grin and stare into Eds eyes. Never wanting the moment to end but Edward did. He yanked his hand away and the spoon with it. Oswald brushed it off as Ed not being in the mood, even though it felt like one of his own knives had _stabbed_ him in the centre of his little, bruised heart.

Oswald moved closer to Ed. His own hand wrapped around a different spoon and mixing up the batter. His heart pounded in rhyme with the mixing. His throat was dry and his eyes sore as he stared within the middle of his bowl.

"you are standing _too_ close." Nygma said rather coldly.

Oswalds legs gave way at the words he'd used himself when they met. Then Oswald accidentally tripped over his own feet in slight shock and went crashing into the side with a rather loud squeal. normally Ed would have jumped to his rescue but it took the intelligent man a few moments before he even _bothered_ to help the injured fellow up.

Mr Cobblepots sides would bruise - he groaned. Sharp pains within his side made him keep back the urge to cry.

" _Get off me_."

_you are_ _**NOT** _ _the real Edward Nygma I know!_

he felt the need to scream these words out. write them everywhere. Edward had changed and not for the better. This hurt Oswald more than anything in the world. even more than the treatment he'd endured during his time at Arkham.

Edward did _nothing_ but simply move aside and leave. Then it hit Oswald.

 _He didn't want to be here._  
He _never_ had.

That's why he didn't ask anything before. Because he wanted this over with and out the way. Oswald had stumbled, back to wall - He slowly began to slide down the cold wall. Oswald sat on the floor, his knees to his chest. This caused him more pain than the crash had simply due to the messed up knee of his but it didn't matter.

His heart was hurt. It wouldn't heal. much like his limp, it would _define_ who he was. A now truly heartless murderer.  
  
  


* * *

 

  
With a slump, the disabled man collapsed at his desk. The Ed he once knew and loved so dearly was _gone_.. he felt a nagging voice at the back of his mind screaming. ' _it's your fault._ ' ' _you are weak!_ ' ' _he'll never love you.'_  
each word made a new tear slip down his husky cheeks until Oswald was a sobbing mess.

His shaking hands poured a rather large glass of wine. He swallowed it quickly. His body trembled as anger and sorrow filled his small soul. Suddenly he gripped the glass of wine and hurled it across the room. _Smash_. Glass lay across the floor with droplets of scarlet wine besides it.

His head thumped onto the desks side. he felt the tears pouring like a salty river down his cheeks and begin to form a puddle on the polished oak desk.

 _Click_. The door was opened.

There stood none other than the great and powerful Edward Nygma. Edward fucking Nygma. The words in his mouth bought pain. He just wanted his old goofy man back..

Oswalds eyes glared and stared upon Eds body. Until he noticed the shape within Eds hands - Oswald studied it.

 _A cake_.

"I'm sorry for how I acted Mr Cobblepot. I was out of order for doing and saying what I did to you-- _forgive me_?" The forced smile from earlier came back to Eds lips.

Oswald shuddered at _that_ Smile.

" _No_. I don't think your apology was even meaningful. Thank you for the cake but you've truly broken a part of me and I don't believe this part shall be bought back so easily with just a simple 'Sorry.' I do not like when someone thinks they can lie to me or endure me.

So no, Mr Nygma. You are not forgiven. So, would you be so kind to see yourself out my office before I throw another glass of wine at that exact spot, thank you. good day."

He left. No words, no pleads. Just simple movement. Oswald knew it was the end. He knew what he'd sent Gabe to do was so wrong but he'd rather have this then her - then that thing - hurt Ed.  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
It'd been Several days since the baking event had happened. They avoided each other as much as possible, speaking though other staff members with messages for the other. Oswald only left his office for work and food. He'd no clue where Ed was half the time.

One night Oswald found himself slowly slipping into a sleep upon the couch. A nearly empty bottle of whiskey at his feet, he found it hard to keep his eyes open. Everything was blurred. And so was the figure approaching.

Oswald didn't care. So he let himself slip into a sleeping state and let whatever happen, happen. He felt something engulf him. His eyes twinkled open as he saw this blurred figure pull a blanket upon the smaller man. His hands gripped onto the strangers wrist tightly, holding him there. No words were exchanged.

Than the blurriness left and he soon realised it was Ed. He'd been the one to care for him in his drunken state. Oswald pulled him onto the couch in a very aggressive manner but the taller man complied and sat besides Oswald.

The Penguin's head was laid slowly in Eds boney lap. He'd use him as a pillow. The blanket pulled up into himself as he fell back into his sleep after his cheek was laid upon Edwards trousers.

Suddenly he felt it. A hand rested upon his head. Stroking his pitch black hair..

"I _forgive_ you." Cobblepot muttered out. Maybe because of Drunkenness or just a simple fact he was so fed up of Edward avoiding him. So tired of being.. alone.

He _misses_ Ed. He loved Ed. and that was all he knew.


End file.
